


Shy

by orphan_account



Series: Bill x Reader [1]
Category: Actor RPF, IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT (Movies - Muschietti) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, IT Chapter Two Spoilers, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reader-Insert, makeup artist reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21037214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Certain members of the It: Chapter 2 cast think that it's taking far too long for one of their own and a makeup artist to get together. Meddling ensues.





	Shy

You just finished placing the last of the fake cuts on James’ face before he mentioned it. “So,” he sing-songs, “how’s the love life coming along?”

A long, tired sigh leaves your nose. “Fuck sake, Ransone, let me work in peace,” you grumble, albeit with a small smile curled along your lip. You take your makeup palette and start mixing together James’ skin colour. The latex just needs to be made to look like James’ own skin, and then you’ll be free. Well, as free as you can be on a set like this. The sound stages and the trailers are kept apart, so there could be some sanctuary found if you ran to wardrobe or something.

James’ fingers tap against the armrest of the chair. He’s always been one of the more antsy and fidgety cast-members to get done. But at least he never moves his head. “You expect me to sit here in silence? Can we not talk like pals do?”

“You can do what McAvoy does and put on some music if you want?” you start shading in the cuts made on James’ face. They’re filming the cavern scenes today, and James’ is the last person to makeup before going to set. _Fuck_, you realise. _He’ll want to walk with you_. _There’s no way of getting out of this conversation—_

James makes a sound in the back of his throat. “McAvoy listens to music instead of talking to you? Rude.”

“McAvoy and I have the same taste in music, dickhead. We jam out together.”

James’ eyebrows rise. “You and McAvoy _jam out_ together?! And we can’t even have a conversation!”

You scowl at him. “We can’t have a conversation because you want to bring up something I don’t want brought up. Simple.”

“You seemed pretty okay bringing it up the other day at that bar-”

“-Because you and Jessica plied me with alcohol!”

James has the nerve to do a sort of dismissing hand gesture. “What’s the point in being so worked up about it? Just fucking tell him-”

“-The guy is-” you bite the inside of your cheek. You had to put quite a lot of fake cuts on to James’ face. By the time you finally have the colour of James’ skin mixed on to your palette, it’s been another couple of minutes. You start with the smaller ones dotted around his temples and cheeks, making sure that it looks okay. There’s a small bottle of fake blood on the vanity table in front of you both. Once that’s filled into all of the cuts, James can go. The wardrobe and special effects departments took care of the blood pack underneath James’ shirt, so at least you don’t have to do that.

Thankfully, you both lapse into silence after that. James hums something or other under his breath. A song that you really can’t pick up on, but whatever keeps him most quiet is fine by you. After about five minutes, you step back and have James turn his head around. There aren’t any streaks of plastic-white on his face. _Good, _you think_, the latex is covered._ Reaching for the bottle of blood, you make sure to shake it a couple of times before starting to pool some of the liquid in between the crevasses made in each cut.

Again, James stays quiet. It’s an unnerving thing. In the months that you’ve worked with the whole cast, spending time with them in the trailer either chatting idly or listening to music, you’ve become close with all of them. You know all of their ticks by this stage. And a quiet James Ransone is never good.

By the time his makeup is finished, your phone buzzes in your jeans’ pocket. You set down your things and fish it out. You smile at the short text from Andy. _Is James ready yet?_

You quickly tap back a reply. _Suitably dolled up, maestro. _

Andy sends back a thumbs-up emoji and your smile only grows. He’s probably mid-conversation with someone. You stuff your phone back into your pocket. “Okay Ransone,” you clap your hands together, “time to go.”

James takes one look at himself in the mirror first, turning his head in different angles before nodding. It’s a short walk to the soundstage that they’ll be working on today, so it shouldn’t take him long to meet up with the rest of the cast. When he gets to the door of the trailer, he turns back to you and holds out his arms in a _ta-da _kind of way. “How do I look?”

“Like a dead man,” you say, shooing him away, “now go. Andy will be wondering where you are.”

Even halfway out of the door of your trailer, James throws over his shoulder. “Remember (Y/N)! We don’t have that long left here. Tell him!”

Just as the door is about to close on your trailer, you manage to get one last shout out to James. “Get out of my domain, Ransone!”

* * *

Costume and special effects are needed more on set than you are; unless someone’s makeup smears off or gets ruined and needs to be redone, you’ll be in your trailer until they call. When the cast is filming their stuff, you have a couple of hours on your hands. Sitting in one of the makeup chairs, you spend most of your free time scrolling through various websites on your phone. You’ll be moving on to your next job soon, so after a quick half an hour on Pinterest looking up inspiration for your next makeup looks for characters, you’re back to aimlessly scrolling through Twitter.

A lot of people are excited for the movie. You smile at tweets hypothesising what the plot of the movie is going to be; is Andy going to follow the book or not, seems to be the biggest question. 

There’s a knock on your trailer door. “It’s open!” You throw over your shoulder.

One of the PA’s sticks their head through the door. Alex; or, affectionately referred to by most of the crew as _Andy’s Shadow_. He stays at the door to your trailer. “Boss needs you on set,” he juts his thumb over his shoulder.

You nod and stuff your phone back into your pocket. Grabbing your makeup bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you follow Alex out of the trailer park and to set. They’ve been filming the ending of the film for the past couple of days, and with everything you’ve heard from the rest of the crew, it could be another couple of days before everything is finalised. You’re pretty sure Andy has already gotten like ten separate endings already, and none of them are working.

When you walk on to the set, you take a look around. A cavern has been constructed in the soundstage, complete with the black, intertwining spires in the centre. You spot both James’ and Jessica all sitting up against the spikes, idly talking and taking pictures of each other. Alex points to where Andy is standing by the feedback monitors.

One of the sound directors is by Andy, gesturing to something on the screen. They talk quietly between each other as you walk over, and by the time Andy spots you, his sound guy walks off. “Yo,” you greet him, clutching the strap of your makeup bag. “Alex said that you needed me?”

Andy nods, taking off his cap and ruffling his hair. “Yeah, could you take a look at this?” The monitor in front of him plays back the scene that they just shot. It’s one of the last scenes in the movie. The scene that you begged Andy not to include: Eddie’s death scene. It was already traumatic enough reading it all those years ago, and now you were going to have to watch it on the big screen. Andy looses a sigh. “Would it be possible to make him look paler? Eddie is dead by this point, and the lighting isn’t really getting that across.”

You tilt your head. “I could make James’ face paler, sure. Around here,” you point at James’ face in the monitor, “would just have to be made darker, is all.”

“You’re the best,” Andy sighs, giving you a firm side-hug. You try to hug him back but before you can even blink, another member of crew has whisked him away for something. You tighten your grip on your makeup bag and make your way on to the main set.

“James Ransone!” you call out. It’s comical at how quickly he sits up, looking around for you. When he finally sees you walking towards the spires, you wave him over. “I gotta make you look more dead. Come with me.”

James follows you to somewhere off of the main set. The lighting is a bit better, and you can actually see what you’re doing. Fishing out the paler skin colours in your bag, you set about making James’ face look a sickly grey colour. The skin around his eyes is made darker, as is the hollows of his cheeks and around his mouth. While you work, you distantly hear Andy on his so-called _God Mic_.

“There,” you say, catching James’ chin and tilting his head around. “Suitably dead.”

James grins. “Try not to get too emotional, okay.”

“I’ve already written to the Academy,” you laugh, pushing him away. “Go on: act the shit out of that scene.”

* * *

There’s a bar in the city that the cast and crew have been patrons of since getting to Toronto. The production has lasted six months, and with a couple of more reshoot days to get down, it’s given the bar staff an opportunity to know all of your drink orders off by heart. When you take up one of the stools by the main bar, one of the younger tenders sets a rum and Coke in front of you. “Thanks, Jack,” you smile, taking a sip.

Some of the crew have already moved on to other bars dotted around the city. The free space beside you is taken when James Ransone all but slides in and hooks an arm around your shoulders. “Hey!”

“Jesus, James. Don’t sneak up on someone like that!”

He gives you a toothy smile before folding his arms in front of him. “Just came over to see why you’re over here by your lonesome.”

You shrug your shoulder.

At that, he juts his thumb over his shoulder. “The rest of the guys are here if you wanna hang?” Something flashes across his face. “Unless you want to actually be by yourself?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I would appreciate the company.”

“Good!” James stands from the stool, waving down a bartender. He orders another beer and fishes cash out of his pocket. “Also,” he says, his voice dropping in volume slightly. “Bill is here.”

To take a measured sip of your drink. “Skarsgard?”

James levels you with a look. “No, dumbass. Hader.”

You roll your eyes. “James-”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t follow my strict orders to just fucking tell him...” James’ sentence trails off as his beer is placed in front of him. He hands the bartender his cash before stepping away from the bar.

“Jesus Christ. You still haven’t-” James’ brow furrows. He looks over to some other corner of the room, towards one of the booths. He mutters something under his breath before turning back around to you. “Come with me.”

Before you know it, he has his arm locked with yours, and you’re both striding through the bar.

_God, if you’re there_, you start hissing under your breath. Over the music being played, you’re positive that James can’t hear you, but you still curse him anyway. _I want you to **get** this man. Strike him down whenever you want. Tomorrow, next Tuesday. Around Christmas. Whenever suits you. Because he’s such a fucking—_

“There she is!” Jay lifts his beer bottle at you. “The best makeup artist in the business!” The cast have taken up a booth near the corner of the bar. You’re slightly surprised to see Skarsgard there, granted that he tends to be banished to his tent for most of the workday. But while the kids tend to keep their distance, the adult cast like pestering him and inviting him to things like this.

Even with him being the tallest one in the group, Skarsgard shuffles over, making a sliver of room for you at the edge of the booth. He pats the free space. “There you go.”

“Thanks, Billy,” you smile, setting your drink down on to the table. It’s already laden with empty glasses and bottles, and small platters of food dotted in-between. Skarsgard wrinkles his nose at the nickname, but sits back in his seat. Almost a month into filming, someone from crew yelled out that there were “too many fucking Bills on this set”, so a nicknaming system had to be invented and adhered to. You just ended up going with people’s surnames, as you did with the James’. It’s been working just fine.

You’re brought back into the conversation by a dry laugh. “_The best makeup artist in the business_,” Hader chuckles into his glass. “She’s definitely got skills, alright.”

“Well she must be good to make your face look attractive,” McAvoy chuckles from the other side of the booth. 

Bill cocks his head. “Oh, so you think I’m attractive, Jamie?”

“Listen here!” McAvoy all but shouts across the table, pointing a finger at Bill. The ensuing argument is nothing more than a spat, but you can’t help but sit back and laugh. The cast members caught in between the argument – Jay and Isaiah – all lean back in their chairs, getting out of the way of anything that could possibly be hurled across at the other.

At the other side of the booth, directly across from you, James Ransone looks pointedly at you, and then towards Hader. He even nods his head towards the other man.

_Don’t you even attempt to open your mouth, you piece of shit_—

You’re saved by Skarsgard nudging your shoulder. “I think I’ll call it a night,” he says. You step out from the booth, letting him out. When he stands, you’re reminded how disturbingly tall and long the man is as he hugs you goodbye. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Bright and early,” you smile, squeezing his middle. Special effects deal more with Skarsgard’s makeup; it’s a lot of prosthetics and pieces that you don’t have the time to give to it. You're pretty sure that Bill is the only cast member who has an entire team swarm him as soon as he gets on to set in the morning. But you do deal with putting down the base layer of white, and styling the red lines that curl around his face. Because of the amount of work that goes into Bill’s makeup, he’s normally on set at least two hours before anyone else.

Everyone waves Bill goodbye, and you slide into his vacant spot. Jessica gives you a side-hug. The cast fit together and get along so well, that it’s actually sickening. You’ve been on sets where that hasn’t always been the case. At one point, you were part of a plan to keep certain actors away from each other. But this cast treat each other like family: something that you had been forcibly dragged into once they sat down in your makeup chair and spoke to you every day for six months.

James nudges your foot under the table. You look over the rim of your glass. He lifts his eyebrows and nods indiscreetly towards Bill; now only separated from you by Jessica at your side. She seems to notice him too, because you see her turn to you out of the corner of your eye.

“James Ransone I swear to God!” you throw across the table. You glare at him, hoping that you can just melt him from sheer staring powers alone.

Bill has his glass halfway to his mouth, before he frowns. “This guy bothering you, (Y/N)?” he points towards James.

You nod. As James’ mouth falls open with shock, you turn to Bill. _Two can play at this game, asshole._ “He’s been nothing but a dick to me for the past couple of weeks.”

Bill all but slams his glass down on the table. “James Ransone! Apologise to this lady at once!”

James balks. “What?!”

The rest of the cast hide their laughs into their own drinks. Your ears twitch at the sound of McAvoy chanting _fight, fight, fight_ into his beer. He only stops when Jay drives an elbow into his side.

The rest of the night is mostly a blur. Every so often, some of the table breaks into smaller groups, telling stories between two or three people. You idly chat to Jessica for most of the night, discussing things that had happened throughout filming. You smile as fond memories are dug up. Thankfully, she doesn’t bring up _the thing_.

And James, to his credit, doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night. But there are still a couple of days left of filming. And knowing him, his pestering will only get worse.

By the time you all call it a night, the bar has already called last orders. All of you slip out of the booth and walk out into the cold Toronto night. A couple of bars further down the street are still open, with small lines outside of people smoking and chatting.

All of the cast, to the best of your knowledge, and from many stories shared by them, live close to each other. Jay, Isaiah, and the two James’ all squash themselves into the back of one cab, waving down Jessica. “Get in, Chastain!”

Jessica slips into the passenger seat. She looks up at Bill and then to you. “I think we can fit one of you guys in-”

“That’s okay,” you shrug. You turn to Bill. “Go on, you’re all going to the same place.”

Bill zips up his jacket. There’s a small frown creasing his brow. “I don’t like the idea of you being here by yourself, though.” He turns back to the cab-full of castmates. “I’ll wait with (Y/N). You guys can go.”

James’ mouth is pulled into a wide grin, and he’s about to say something before someone – Jay, you think – slaps a hand over his mouth. “Okay. Text me when you get home (Y/N)!” Jessica calls, before closing the cab door.

You walk back towards the wall of the bar, sheltering slightly out of the wind. Bill follows, one hand in his jacket pocket. In his other hand, you can see him tapping something out on his phone. Probably ordering an Uber or something.

You nod at the other bars lining the street. “Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere else?”

Bill snorts, looking up from his phone for a second. “Nah. Too old for that kind of thing anymore.” He taps out something else before stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

You roll your eyes. “You’re not _that_ old, come on.”

“In comparison to you, I am.”

“What are you talking about? I’m twenty-four-”

“-Oh my God, I’m like, double your age.” Bill makes a face. You can’t help but laugh.

“You’re really not.”

Bill makes a sound, but joins you against the wall. The night seems busy enough, with many people coming out of bars and falling straight into cabs and Ubers gathered on the street outside. With most cars in the city seemingly nabbed already, you wonder vaguely how long your ride home will take to get to the bar.

Something in the back of your mind wishes it won’t. Not for a while, at least.

After a quiet moment, Bill breaks first. “So, um,” Bill rubs the back of his neck. “Do you have anything lined up after this? Like...work-wise?”

You fold your arms in front of you, staving off the chill. “I’m going to be a supervisor for a show in a few weeks,” you say. “It’s mostly making sure that whoever is applying makeup to the cast is doing it properly, and I’ll be responsible for creating the character’s look. I don’t think I’ll be needed on set all of the time, so that’s good. I can actually spend some time at home,” you finish with a short laugh.

Bill raises his eyebrows. “That sounds amazing.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I’ll really only be working in pre-production, I think. If anything goes wrong, or if something has to be changed, I’ll be on call.”

Bill nods. A couple of crewmates wander past the both of you. They greet you both with slight waves.

You look up at Bill. “What about you?”

Bill shrugs. “The next season of _Barry_ is being shot in a couple of weeks,” he says, “just finalising some of the scripts and stuff like that.”

“What glamorous lives we lead,” you laugh, looking out on to the street. Toronto cabs are pretty much dotted everywhere. Anyone of them would take you both home. But you can’t help but notice that neither of you have started walking to one yet. The chill of the night air ebbs away as a warm blush starts creeping along your cheeks. Hopefully, the orange streetlamps overhead don’t pick it up.

Bill huffs a laugh. “It just never stops.”

Something is laced in his words that strike you in the chest. Working is great; money comes in, you make friends with cast and crewmates, and you can develop your craft. But you burn out, doing too many things all at once.

You step a bit closer to Bill. A harsh breeze whips up through the street, prickling at your skin. “Are you going to take time off this year?”

“Definitely. Need to spend time with people who matter most, you know?”

You smile. “Yeah, I know.”

A moment of silence settles over the both of you. It’s only broken by the gentle thump of music being blasted out of nearby clubs, and the indistinct chatter of the people falling out of them on to the street. But you glance back at Bill, who’s idly looking out on to the street, and find that the silence isn’t really one that needs to be filled. He’s like that on set. Sometimes, you both could have a conversation lasting the entire time where he’s there – which sadly, isn’t that long. And on other days, you can work in silence as he just sits there. You lean against the wall of the bar.

“So...” Bill’s hands fidget by his side. “Ransone said something to me today.”

Something drops into the pit of your stomach. “Oh?” _I’m going to kill him. **It might not be what you think**. Are you kidding me? It’s exactly what we think!_ You school your expression into something neutral. But inside your chest, your heart hammers against your ribcage, trying to burst out and on to the pavement at your feet.

Bill gives a sort-of dry laugh. “Yeah, he, he was dying in my arms, and when Andy said cut,” he clears his throat, “he mentioned something about talking to you about something.”

_I’m going to kill James Ransone if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll make it look like a goddamn accident_.

“I could be reading it all wrong, but,” Bill’s hand fidgets by his side. “Would you like to, I don’t know, grab a coffee sometime? Maybe before filming finishes?”

Your stomach twists into a tight coil. A smile tugs at the corner of your lip. “Yeah,” you breathe. Clearing your throat, you nod. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

* * *

How he finds out, you have no idea. You didn’t tell him. You wouldn’t have been able to stomach the shit-eating grin plastered across your face if you _had_ told him. And Bill didn’t. Well, to the best of your knowledge, you think Bill didn’t. So however it is that James Ransone finds out about your coffee date, he sends you a text on your walk home.

_You’re welcome <3 _

**Author's Note:**

> Idk. 
> 
> Kudos and Comments gladly welcomed.


End file.
